Thanks so much to all those still following this! Also, big thanks to all reviewers. Please keep your comments coming!
We're nearing the end now, so things should be get moving shortly, beginning with this chapter! Before we go on, though, a huge apology - who knows where I got 'Raquel' from, but her name was 'Constance' in the show and I realised it far too late in the game. Constance, Raquel - not that much of a difference ... oops.
Alan lifted his head slowly. The insistent 'buzz' drew his gaze to his discarded phone, left on the tiny table beside John's laptop. Why he'd kept the thing with him he didn't know, perhaps out of habit, perhaps the small weight carried a lot 'normal' with it, but whatever the reason, he hadn't thrown the broken object away.
Only, now it didn't appear so broken.
John attempted to draw Alan's attention back to the work he'd set up for him, but Virgil and Gordon both remembered that he'd broken his phone in the fall down the stairs and the red head gestured that he pick it up. Gingerly, Alan reached out for it. The display was alive for the first time in days, showing him he had one message saved in the voicemail box. Mouth dry, Alan raised it to his ear and activated the message.
He was almost relieved to hear static crackling through the smashed device and with a small smile, dropped the phone back onto the table. Virgil, however, picked it up, turning it over in his hands and silently brought it back to his own corner of the room, mind already working on possibilities. Gordon and Alan shared an amused glance, before John once more tapped the laptop with the back of his fingers and the boys went back to their tasks.
While Alan battled his way through math problems, and John was pleasantly surprised to find he could weave in and out of his brother's mind with ease, listening to him work and actually following Alan's train of thought through to the solution, Gordon was busy phoning the contractors vying for the once in a lifetime job of rebuilding the Tracy's family home. He'd opted not to select vidphone, doubting he looked his best after a few days on the road with little sleep, lots of stress and few changes of clothes. Besides, he was sure he wasn't supposed to be hiding out in a motel room with peeling seventies decor. His job was to ensure the reputation of the family remained intact, after all.
John allowed Alan some privacy and turned his attention to his next youngest brother. He'd warned them that he'd be attempting to do as Scott had asked.
"Play nice, kids," he'd smiled. "Keep it clean."
None of them had been too impressed with the idea, but Scott's reasoning had been sound and John needed to be able to practise on someone, somewhere safe that if he should strain his mind, he could be looked after.
It was much harder to read Gordon than it had been with Alan. Every time he thought he'd got it locked down, Gordon's thoughts would abruptly turn in another direction and John would be thrown off, an unseen passenger on a roller coaster with no concept of gravity or any regard for the normal rules of physics. It was giving John a headache and his brother's were starting to glimmer with that ethereal light he'd come to associate with psychics, but he reckoned he could afford one more attempt, this time on Virgil.
A sheer wall of shining blacks met him, blues, greens, purples; a raven's wing of denial and Virgil glanced up with a smirk. John retreated, genuinely amazed.
"I couldn't get in," he gasped, exhausted. "Virge, how'd you do that?"
"Energy field," he replied. He frowned, suddenly worried. "I didn't hurt you, did I Johnny?"
John shook his head slowly, not keen to aggravate the slight beat in his temples.
"You can build a force field inside your head?" Gordon demanded, having finished his last call in time to hear what was going on. "Is that even possible?"
Virgil shrugged. "Why not? I built it with my mind, stands to reason I can use it there."
A wave of worry washed over Alan and he bit his lip, in part to push down the sudden panic that always seemed to accompany the reception of someone else's emotions and in part to concentrate. There was a slight tingle to the left, a strange sensation to feel within your mind, but Alan followed it and turned to John, concerned. "What's wrong?"
It took a second for John to realise what had happened. He grimaced. "Sorry, Sprout."
"John?" Virgil prompted in such a manner his brother knew there'd be no dissuading him.
"I'd not considered that I could be blocked," the blond admitted. "Of course, I should have. We're not the only ones out there, after all."
Gordon nodded. "Which means, there could be more like you. And that worries you because it makes you vulnerable to them."
"I thought I was the telepath?" John joked. In truth, he was more than a little disconcerted.
Whether it was Alan's open, youthful mind or simply that Gordon was thinking too fast for him to follow, he'd felt mildly perturbed that his ability seemed so limited. Of course, it went without saying that not using it for so long had left him a little out of practise, but it wasn't until Virgil's trick that he'd started to really think of the implications. It left him with chills.
There was warmth suddenly washing through him and while it didn't dispel that cold feeling entirely, it went a way to nudge it back into the tight little corner of his mind where John kept his worries. He turned to find Alan smiling hopefully at him and he couldn't resist running his hand through the already tousled hair. "Thanks, kiddo," he murmured.
The door opened to admit Scott, who was quick to notice the tension in the room. "What's going on?"
Gordon smiled up at him. "Just a reality check."
Scott wasn't too sure what to make of the comment, but he let it slide. Virgil straightened from what he was working on; penknife in one hand and, Scott was surprised to see, Alan's phone in the other.
"That should do it," Virgil commented with satisfaction. He held the broken phone out so everyone could hear it.
"Virge, what the -" Scott began.
"I ... can ... never ... go ... back ..."
Alan shuddered. "That's her," he told his brothers. "That's Raquel."
"Sounds like a barrel of fun," Gordon observed. "What exactly is a 'woman in white', anyway?"
"An angry spirit," Scott told him. "Born out of violent death."
John nodded. "Usually having been cheated on, the woman is so distraught she'll take her own life."
"She can't cross over because she feels she has a task to do," Virgil continued. "Women in white aren't exactly forgiving. If she finds a man willing to cheat on his partner, she goes after him."
"Jeremy Allain never did that," Alan remembered quietly. "He told me so."
"She's escalating, becoming more random," John said.
"Are they allowed to do that?" Alan asked.
Virgil's smile was soft. "They're spirits, Sprout. There's no hard and fast rule."
"What's she doing calling Alan?" Gordon asked, worried gaze finding and holding that of his eldest brother. "How is she calling Alan?"
"Alan's a medium, he calls to her," John answered before Scott could. "And spirits like electronics, the patterns emitted by them can act as conductors. What Raquel left on the phone was EVP, Electronic Voice Phenomena."
Alan reached out to take his cell from Virgil. "My phone's broken," he told them, a sad, little lost boy and his tone unlike his own. "She can't go back."
Scott glanced worriedly at John, but Virgil was acting already.
"We know, honey," he soothed, stretching out his hand to cup the back of his brother's neck. "Come on back to us."
Drawn by the deep voice, Alan took a breath and looked up. "Virgie?"
Virgil smiled, warm eyes crinkling slightly. "Right here, little brother."
"I don't like it," Alan gulped. He thrust his phone out, hand trembling and Scott hurried to take it from him. "She's horrible and I don't like it."
"What is it?" Scott asked, crouching down so he was staring into his brother's tear brimmed eyes. He rubbed Alan's knees. "What did she do?"
Alan shut his eyes and shook his head. "She's just really sad, Scott. And cos she's sad, she wants to hurt people."
Scott swallowed. "Does she want to hurt you?"
"No," Alan whispered. "No, not me."
Scott pulled the unresisting boy into his arms. "Hey," he whispered. "You got out of there pretty fast, Sprout. Remember that. She can't hold you if you don't want to stay."
Alan nodded against his shoulder and pulled away, attempting to take control once more. "I'm alright now," he insisted. "You can let go."
Scott did, with a sad, proud smile. In many ways, Alan was like a son to him and although it hurt when he asserted his independence from him, Scott couldn't help but acknowledge the kid was growing up. He stood straight again, meeting everyone's gaze.
"We're letting Raquel call the shots," he told his brothers, tone commanding. "That was the last time. We meet her on our terms and we end this."
"Know thy enemy," John agreed. He reached for his laptop, typing quickly.
"Surely Dad would have salted and burnt her bones," Gordon mused. "Isn't that usually the way these things work?"
"She could have another way to cross over," Virgil reminded him.
"She can't go back," Alan murmured, glancing up quickly to fend off four worried brothers. "No, I'm okay."
"That's probably it," Scott told him. "But where can't she go?"
"Here she is," John announced. "Raquel Welch, survived by Joseph Welch."
Gordon leaned over to try to read the screen. "Does it say why she did it?"
"Yeah," John said softly. "An hour before they found her, she made a call to 911. She left her kids in the bathtub, went away for a moment and when she came back, they weren't breathing. Both died."
"Looks like we need to visit Joseph," Scott said. "He could be the trigger for Raquel's swan dive. Can you find an address, John?"
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Joseph Welch had moved from the family home not long after burying his wife and children. It was understandable, John thought. Jeff Tracy had done the same when the mother of his sons had perished, unable to walk where her ghost trod, where her memory lingered like perfume and where his little boys expected to see her. John swallowed down the lump that came to his throat. After all these years, it still felt as if they'd abandoned her, not that she'd gone where they couldn't follow.
At least they had had each other. John couldn't help but wonder where Joseph had turned in his grief. He appeared to live alone, in a dusty, junkyard of a house, chain link running around the property, not, John was sure, to keep people out, but more to fence himself in. John turned to glance at Alan in the backseat.
"What do you make of it, kiddo?"
They'd decided to make use of Alan's empathy, mostly to help him train to control it and a little to make him feel secure. If he could learn to dial it up or down, he'd no longer fear it and Alan had jumped at the chance to help.
He screwed his face up thoughtfully. "He doesn't want people to talk to him," he ventured, unsure if he was translating the adult emotions correctly. "He feels guilty."
"About Raquel?" Scott asked.
Alan shrugged. "I don't know. It's all dark and depressing. He's punishing himself, if that helps?"
"It helps plenty," Scott assured him. "John? What can you pick up?"
"The Sprout's right. The guilt is at the forefront of his mind. He's set himself away from human contact on purpose."
"Cos it's what got Raquel so hurt," Alan confirmed, a little surprised at his own conviction.
Scott smiled at him. "That's good, Allie. You're really getting the hang of it now."
Alan, emboldened by his success, delved deeper. "He doesn't feel sad anymore, though," he revealed. "He's got too bitter to feel anything for her."
"Alright," Scott sighed. "He's going to be tough to talk to. Come on, John, let's see what you can lift from his mind."
The three boys exited the car, Alan staying close to the SUV while his brothers made their way onto the property. Joseph Welch was working outside, a man old before his time. His face was lined by a combination of long term grief and sun exposure, while a drinking habit had given his nose a reddish tinge. He looked, Scott thought, like a bloodhound, all long face and droopy eyes, but those eyes were as deceptive as the dog's, holding the same intelligent spark deep down inside. Grouchy and sour he may well be, but stupid he wasn't.
"This is private property," he snapped tiredly as the brothers drew closer.
"Are you Joseph Welch?" Scott called, more to be sociable than anything else.
The man eyed him suspiciously. "I know you," he told him and Scott's heart beat that little bit faster in fear that he'd been recognised. "I've spoken to your kind before. You back to rake up the dirt again?"
"We just want to know what happened, sir," John replied, realising the man thought they were reporters.
"I bet you do," Joseph replied. He aimed his glare behind them. "You bringing kids along with you now? Supposed to soften my heart, bring the tears?"
Scott followed his line of sight, resting on Alan, who stared back. "He's on work experience."
"Well, invite him up," Joseph replied. "He ain't gonna learn nothing over there. Boy! Come over here!"
Alan did as he was told, making sure to stand just behind his brothers, unsure of the man. Joseph lowered his head, so he was at the same level as Alan.
"They're leeches," he spat. "They feed on human misery. You wanna be a leech, do you?"
Alan shook his vehemently. "I want to know what happened, so Raquel can rest."
Joseph straightened. "What the hell's that supposed to mean?"
"What happened to your children?" John asked quickly.
"I already told that other guy a few days ago. They drowned."
John was surprised when he saw his father's face appear in the man's thoughts, but kept his expression neutral. "I know, sir, I'm sorry. We're facts checking."
"I dunno what kinda paper you guys run," Joseph grumbled. "The questions he asked."
"About your late wife?" Scott hazarded.
"Yeah, wanted to know where I'd buried her."
"And where was that, again?"
"Out the back of our old place in Breckenridge, over in Jericho."
Scott nodded as if confirming the information. "You never married again, did you, Mr Welch?"
"I gotta go through this again? No, I never remarried. I loved Raquel."
"You had a happy marriage?" John asked.
"Yeah," Joseph agreed.
"That's why you feel guilty for cheating on her," Alan told him.
Joseph looked at the boy askance, but John drew his attention.
"Ever heard of a woman in white, Mr Welch? Or a weeping woman?" he asked. "It's a ghost story."
"Traditionally, the woman in question discovers her husband's cheated on her," Scott explained. "In a fit of temporary insanity, she murders their children."
"What?"
"Once she comes to her senses, she takes her own life and becomes a restless spirit, seeking other unfaithful men. Those men disappear."
"I'd like to know where you boys are going with this," Joseph growled threateningly.
"You want to blame Raquel for killing your kids," Alan said softly, but with confidence.
"But you know you drove her to it," John continued. "And you can't hold her responsible."
"My wife loved our babies!" Joseph snarled. Scott almost felt sorry for the guy as his brother's tag teamed him.
"But you did cheat on her?" John pressed.
"And you feel bad about it," Alan confirmed.
"You suspect she found out."
"And that guilt eats at you."
"You've often worried she had something to do with the kids' deaths."
"It just tares you apart," Alan finished, eyes shining with sympathy. "You made a mistake and everyone had to pay for it."
Joseph was taken aback for a moment, unable to think of anything to say and Scott felt compelled to end the silence.
"I'm sorry if we've raked over old wounds, Mr Welch. But you've been very helpful."
"Get off my property," Joseph whispered.